Sickness
by Luna Peachie
Summary: Marie is a day shy of her tenth birthday when a dangerous looking man comes to Megaton looking for her mother. It seems the past has finally caught up with them. As they prepare to run, Marie learns the truth about her origins and the events that led to her mother to making a decision that would not only change her life, but also damn those of a diseased city.
1. Lies My Mother Told Me

_Sickness_

Lies My Mother Told Me

By all accounts, Marie was an average girl living in Megaton with her mother. As average as a nine-year-old could be in the devastated landscape of the Capital Wasteland. She had bushy black hair that she kept in a low ponytail and her eyes were intense, like she could see right through a person. She looked clean, even when she and the other children had been playing outside all day. It was almost unnatural how her skin didn't seem to take on the dirty wastelander tan.

She had always lived in Megaton and rarely ventured out. For as long as she could remember, Marie and her mother had lived in the two story shack on the walkway right by the entrance into town. When her mother was out, Marie was left in the care of Wadsworth, the old Mister Handy that kept the house in order, or Charon, the really tall Ghoul that her mother kept around as a bodyguard. Moira Brown from the supply shop sometimes stopped in to check on her.

Marie's mother was a strange woman. A former Vault dweller, her mother had the naïve look of someone that was new to town, despite having lived there for over ten years. She had grown accustomed to the wastes long ago. She took to it better than most did. Though friendly, her mother was naturally wary of strangers. Most assumed that came from growing up in a Vault. It was hard for her mother to trust newcomers and she always had some sort of weapon on her at all times.

Like two peas in a pod, Marie and her mother were almost always seen together. The two looked nothing alike and many newcomers in town were quick to point that out when it was mentioned the two were mother and daughter. Marie knew her mother was not her birth mother. Marie understood that she was found in a raider hideout and taken in by the woman she now called her mother. Her mother loved her as if Marie were her own and she always said as much. Marie never questioned this story because she never had a reason to.

Marie was never left alone for more than a day. If her mother needed to go somewhere far away, Marie usually came along. The farthest Marie had ever been from this little two-story shack by the town gate was to Rivet City, and even then she was in the care of some friends of her mother. Now that Marie was coming upon her tenth birthday, she had hoped that her mother would be more trusting and let her stay in the shack alone for extended periods of time. She decided to bring this up after the festivities.

The day before her tenth birthday should have been an exciting day. Marie's mother should have been bustling around, trying to get the house ready for a little party. Wadsworth would have been going about trying to find substitutes for the cake recipe, and Marie would be spending her day trying to find her birthday present. Her mother always hid it so well. Marie wandered if some of the kids from the local Vault would be allowed to come to her party. She doubted it. Her mother's friend, Amata, sometimes came for a visit. It was rare and her mother was always sad when she left, but she liked Aunt Amata.

Marie woke up and didn't hear the sounds of her mother shuffling about downstairs. She heard Wadsworth say they had a visitor and then her mother talking with someone. Marie cracked her door and poked her head out just slightly. She recognized the voice as Gob, the Ghoul that had been running the saloon since Mr. Moriarty "disappeared" a few years ago. No one was sure what happened to Mr. Moriarty. One day he left town on a business venture and never came back. After about a year, Gob the Ghoul bartender and Nova the "Innkeeper" took over. Gob and Nova had been running the saloon ever since. Her mother's Ghoul worker, Charon, worked there some nights as a bouncer to earn extra caps.

"…where did he say he was from?" Marie's mother asked.

"Some place called 'The Pitt' up north. I've heard of it from passing travelers. I hear since that tunnel collapse ten years ago, it's gotten worse. Long-haul traders usually give it the wide berth. I thought he was trying to sell me a crock of shit, but then he told me he was looking for you." Gob said, crossing his arms.

Marie's mother sounded panicked. "Did he say why?" she asked.

"No, he didn't. I told him I didn't know who he was talking about. He accused me of lying and I had Charon escort him out. I don't know if he believed me or not, but Nova saw him stalking around town earlier. He has raider written all over him. He's here alone from the talk around the tavern. I don't think he'll do anything stupid while in town, but I think you might want to hold off on scavenging runs outside Megaton for a while." Gob sounded deeply concerned. "You've been good to me. You helped me set up my place after that bastard Moriarty…" Gob cleared his throat. "…when Moriarty 'left'. I owe you much more than that. Hell, Megaton owes you big time. I don't want to see you get any more banged up than usual."

Marie's mother sounded more scared than she'd ever heard her. "If the tunnel collapsed, how did he get here?"

"I'm not sure. I'm guessing there are other ways. The tunnel was probably just the fastest way. Though, I don't assume it took someone almost ten years to walk from the Pitt. I know it's up north but it's not that far up north." Gob said.

"Maybe they didn't know where to look first." Marie's mother said. "Is he still in town?"

"I don't know. I asked some of the regulars to keep an eye out. Do you think this guy is trouble?" Gob asked.

"He knew my name and he knew about what happened in The Pitt. He's trouble. Did he say what his name was?" Marie's mother asked.

"No, just said that some guy named Ashur finally tracked you down."

Ashur…where had Marie heard that name before? It sounded familiar. Marie knew she had to start getting ready soon, but she didn't want her mother to know she was eavesdropping. The lone school house in the city would be opening its doors soon and Marie couldn't be late again.

"Ashur is still alive? I would have thought the rioting slaves would have killed him if the disease or the trogs hadn't first…" Marie heard her mother whisper. "This is bad. Gob, is Charon still at the bar?"

"I usually let him go right about now. He's probably on his way here now. Why?" Gob asked.

"Good. Let me know if anyone else comes around asking for me or Marie, alright?"

Marie heard Gob make some affirmative grunts and then leave. A minute or so later, the door opened again. Marie heard the familiar stomps of Charon, her mother's Ghoul worker. Marie was never clear on the specifics of how the tall Ghoul came into her mother's employ. He had always been with them, just like Dogmeat up until a few years ago. Dogmeat was now buried outside the cave to the big Vault nearby. Charon often said that Marie's mother held his contract, but she never knew what that meant. Charon would escort Marie and her mother whenever they'd go to Rivet City or some other settlement and Marie liked spending time with him. He was quiet, but he talked sometimes. He called Marie Little Miss and her mother Ma'am. She was always trying to get him to be more independent and to think for himself. It took ten years, but when Charon asked her mother if he could work part time at Gob's, her mother instantly said yes.

"Ma'am, someone was poking around the bar asking for you last night." Charon said.

"I know, Charon. Gob just came by. Do you know what he said?" Marie's mother asked.

"He said he was from The Pitt. Is it true? Did they track you down after all this time?" Charon asked. For some reason, Charon rarely used contractions in his speech and it made him sound like a robot from the old holotape movies they sometimes watched. It was like Charon was programed to do as his employer said, despite her mother telling him many times that he was his own person.

"Yes, it is." Marie's mother said. "Charon, I want you to escort Marie to the schoolhouse today." Marie's mother hated ordering Charon around unless she absolutely had to. Charon was honor bound to follow her instructions, but her mother always did what she could to make Charon feel like more than just a servant. "I want you to be no less than three feet from her at any given time today unless she is with me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I will guard Little Miss with my life." Charon said. Marie could hear the uncertainty in the ghoul's voice. "But is it safe for her to be out and about with this Ashur person looking for you?"

Marie's mother sighed. "We're barely safe in here. I don't want Marie to think anything is wrong. She'll get scared and it'll bring attention to us. Charon, we're leaving Megaton tonight."

Marie's eyes widened when she heard that. "All of us?" She heard Charon ask.

"Yes, all four of us. You, me, Marie, and Wadsworth. You're more than just a hired gun, Charon. I keep telling you that. You're a part of this family, too. And that means you're in just as much danger as me and Marie. I'll have Wadsworth pack up mine and Marie's things and then you pack up yours tonight. We have to leave as soon as possible. I was stupid to think they'd never come after me…" Marie's mother sounded like she was about to cry.

"Do not worry, Ma'am. I will protect this family." Charon said. "We will need to make the necessary arrangements with Sheriff Simms and I will have to get my final pay from Mr. Gob."

"Yes, of course. I'll do all that today while Marie is at school." Marie's mother sighed. "Charon, did Moira finish with Marie's gift?"

Marie perked up again. Hearing about her birthday present almost made Marie forget about everything else she had just heard. Marie tried to open the door quietly so she could hear better, but the loud squeak of the old hinges gave her away. Her mother and Charon looked up and saw her. Her mother knew at that moment that Marie heard everything. She crossed her arms and looked at Charon. They were caught and her mother's face showed it. Charon's face never really showed much.

"It appears Little Miss overheard us." Charon said.

Marie's mother nodded. She thought for a bit and seemed to come up with a new plan. "Marie, you're not going to school today. Charon, go to Moira's with Wadsworth." She started, reaching into her pocket and taking out a small sack of caps. "Get all the food and medical supplies she has in stock, as well as ammo and anything else you think we'll need. Have her give Wadsworth a once over and pick up Marie's birthday gift. When you're done with that, go settle things with Gob and Sheriff Simms."

Charon didn't like being an errand boy, but he made an exception due to the seriousness of the situation. He waved for Wadsworth to follow him and left without another word. Marie's mother knew she could trust the tall Ghoul. He had been loyal to them and her mother was always good to Charon.

"How much did you hear, Marie?" her mother asked, when they were alone.

"I heard Mr. Gob come in and say something about a man named Ashur." Marie looked thoughtful. "I feel like I've heard that name before."

Marie's mother sat down in a nearby chair. "You probably have, but if you remembered I'd be amazed. Marie, you're ten years old tomorrow. I've always done my best to be honest with you and to make sure you grew up into a respectable person. When you were five, you asked why you didn't look like me. Do you remember what I told you?"

Marie nodded and sat next to her. "You told me you found me after clearing out a raider hideout." Marie said. It was a story she didn't like thinking about. "You had heard of some raiders taking people away to be sold up north. When you cleared out their hideout, I was the only survivor. You said you didn't know what happened to my real parents. You brought me back here and you and Charon raised me."

With a thoughtful look, Marie's mother nodded. "Marie, forgive me but that's only a half-truth." She said. "I saved you from raiders, but the story goes deeper than that. I saved you not just from a life of servitude, but from a life of being a test subject."

Marie looked confused. "What does that mean, Mama?" she asked.

"Marie, you were born with a unique condition. You're naturally immune to most forms of radiation. Whether or not you still have that immunity, I don't know." Her mother sighed. She had that habit. It was as if she was thinking of a different time and place when Marie was around. "I was afraid to have you tested for that as you got older because I thought they'd take you away from me. I couldn't stand the thought of you being poked and prodded your entire life for some farfetched dream of a diseased and dying city. You deserved more than that."

"Where are you going with all this, Mama?" Marie asked.

"I know where you were born and I know who your birth parents are and I'm sorry this is how you find out." Her mother said, holding back strained tears. She tried to pick her next words properly, but she knew it was no use. What she was about to tell Marie would not go down smoothly. How does one tell a child their entire life up until now was a complete lie? How could she justify her actions of that night and the many sleepless nights after basically kidnapping a child? What right did she, a newcomer and total stranger to those people, have to make that decision? She tried to justify her actions many times over the years, but she knew it was her penance to live with these actions for the rest of her life. "Your parents weren't wastelanders I was too late to save. Looking back on it now, maybe they were. You were born in a place called The Pitt. It's a horrible place; diseased and dying from more than just radiation. I was brought in the help save the people there."

Not sure how to take all this in, Marie just nodded. "Did you?" she asked.

Her mother shook her head. "I was already too late. The ravages of that sickness took those people years before I arrived. If it didn't drive you insane, it mutated you into something…" Her mother winced at the memory of fighting the beasts of the steelyard. "…something inhuman. Some were saved many years before I got there. Some of my friends in the Brotherhood at the Citadel came from that place, but they were the rare ones saved from the illness. A man came to the Capital Wasteland looking for help freeing his people. He gave an entire population hope…" Marie's mother looked like she was about to cry. "…but it was all a lie in the end."

Marie looked like she didn't want to hear the rest, but she had to know the truth. "What happened to those people, Mama?" she asked.

Her mother looked down at her with a sad, nostalgic face. "I was going to wait until you were eighteen, but you're old enough now. When I finish my story, I hope you won't judge my actions too harshly. If you're angry at me, if you hate me, if you think I'm a selfish person hiding my actions behind altruism, I will understand. Those thoughts, and more, have crossed my mind many times over the years. But please remember, after everything is said and judgement has passed, that I take sole responsibility for what happened and none of it is your fault. I will live with this for the rest of my life so you can live yours without guilt and the need to atone."

Marie nodded and sat close to her mother.

With a big sigh and a silent prayer for strength, Marie's mother was finally ready to tell this terrible story. "Ten years ago…"

* * *

 **Hi, hi, everyone! I'm Luna Peachie!**

 **If you don't know me, well it's nice to meet you! So, you might be asking, "Luna Peachie? Why are you writing a fan fiction for a game that's almost ten years old? And why are you doing it now? And what about your other projects?"**

 **Well, oddly nosy individual, I'll tell you! I recently replayed Fallout 3 to freshen my outlook on the games. By the way, it runs horribly on Windows 10 because it's not compatible. I found myself oddly drawn to The Pitt DLC when it came out, but I hadn't started writing fan fiction at the time. It's a tragic story under a lot of dirt, grime, and disease. Like many of my stories, this idea had been floating around in my head for a while but I could never put it on paper (or, type it in Word haha).**

 **Taking a break from another fic, I decided to type some ideas. I added a few more every so often while working on other projects and once I organized my inane rambling into an actual chapter, I decided to post it.**

 **I'm guessing I'm not the first person to have the "What if I take Marie from the Pitt and raise her as my own?" idea when playing the DLC and I doubt I'm the only person to post a fic about it. I don't plan on making this a long fic. Maybe five chapters or less depending on how well it does review and fav wise.**

 **How did I do? Would you like to see me continue this story? Let me know in a review and I'll continue it! Updates might be sporadic as I am working on a major fic in the Fallout 4 zone of this little area, but I do plan do finish it if it gets the right amount of support! And don't forget to follow me on Tumblr and dA for updates on my projects and other fun stuff!**

 **And so, I welcome you to my new side project! Read, review, and be merry!**

 **Fallout belongs to Bethesda.**


	2. Bait and Switch

_Sickness_

Bait and Switch

" _To anyone who can hear me: my name is Wernher. I come from a settlement to the north. I have information of great value to anyone willing to help me free my people. Please... help us…"_

That was what the message said on Claire's Pip-Boy over and over again. She and Charon had been sitting in Moriarty's Saloon when her Pip-Boy picked up a distress signal. Gob had just set down their drinks and pretended to clean glasses as the message repeated over and over again. It was a good thing Moriarty was asleep in the backroom or he would have come out and told them to turn that noise off. Though, some of the patrons looked like they were about to tell her that.

Taking a hint from the angry glares of bar patrons who couldn't hear the radio, Claire turned the distress station of her Pip-Boy off. Once everyone could hear Three Dog again, the glares stopped. Claire was hoping Charon would say something first, but he rarely did.

"A settlement up north needs help?" she asked. Something about saying a settlement needing help gave her a foreboding feeling but she ignored it. It didn't compare at all to the feeling she was getting about the distress signal itself. Claire had never considered anything beyond the Capitol Wasteland. Up until a few months ago, her life was Vault 101 and nothing else. Claire still had that clean, naïve newcomer look about her, but the Wasteland had hardened her a bit. She wasn't some dumb Vault Dweller with rose-tinted glasses about the world anymore. There were still things that gave her a bit of culture shock, though.

Something about the distress signal didn't sit right with Claire. It didn't sound like the panicked plea of a man who needed help. It sounded more like someone trying to broker a deal over some brahmin. And the fact that he took the time to say "This message repeats" after the initial message seemed odd.

"Boss," Charon started. "…do you think the message seems strange?"

Claire nodded, picking up her beer and leaning back a bit. Claire rarely drank but she needed a quick pick-me-up after the hell Moira Brown put her through for the survival guide she had been working on. After nearly getting herself killed for the sake of Wasteland research, Claire needed a stiff beer. Claire felt compelled to ask Moira for a little more for all the trouble, but left her fawning over a deactivated landmine. Claire decided to let Moira have her moment and told her she'll come back later.

"I have never been up north." Charon said. He rarely used contractions in his speech. "But I used to hear rumors from travelers in Ahzrukhal's bar about some place up north that was so irradiated and polluted, nothing could survive there. Most long-haul caravans coming or going avoid it. If you want to check on the distress signal, I will go along with you."

Claire nodded. "If someone needs help, I'll help them. But the guy one the radio didn't sound like he had just escaped from something bad. I've heard distress signals and more often than not, they're panicked and quick as if the person is in a hurry. This man sounds like he has all the time in the world."

"Maybe he took time to collect himself." Charon said, finally picking up the bottle of water Gob put in front of him. Gob knew not to offer Charon beer. Charon never drank alcohol. _NEVER._

"I guess I can see that. Still, his voice…" Claire looked like she was concentrating on some stain on the counter. She often stared off into nothing when she was thinking in depth."…it was more like he was asking for someone to come at their earliest convenience, not right away. If his people were in danger, I'd think he'd be begging for help from anyone who could hear him. And that signal was so clear."

"There are a few abandoned radio towers up north. Perhaps he used one of those." Charon said.

Charon made good points so Claire decided not to argue. "I don't know. Something about it just seems…off. Something tells me this might be a trap for something bigger. You think those slavers from Paradise Falls are trying new tactics?" she asked, taking a sip from her beer.

"Slavers are not known for grand planning. They know what gets people running. Food, water, or chems. Simple bait and switch: leave out bait and set the net. Most times, just hype up the bait and let them walk right into the net. The easiest prey is the one that catches itself." Charon said, as if he knew from experience. Claire never asked Charon about his life before they met. She felt once he got to know her and felt comfortable enough, he'd tell her. That day hadn't come yet.

Though she had his contract in her pack, she never felt like she "owned" him. Claire never wanted Charon to feel like a servant. Charon made that hard, though. Whenever Claire thought she wanted or needed something, Charon usually had it done or got the item without hesitation. He never asked for pay or anything for himself. Claire hoped one day Charon would start seeing her as a friend and not an employer.

"Well, either way, we should investigate it. If it's a man calling for help, we'll help him. If it's a slaver trying new tactics, we'll stop him." Claire stood up and finished her beer. "It beats sitting around here watching Moriarty shout at Gob for no reason."

Charon nodded and stood up with her. Charon was almost a foot taller than Claire, which intimidated most people. When Charon was around, no questionable people approached Claire. She liked his company, despite how quiet he was. He was obedient to the point of fault, but he wasn't stupid. In fact, Charon was probably one of the smartest and most insightful people Claire had ever met. He often voiced when he thought something was a bad idea, but didn't scold Claire when the idea nearly killed both of them. He just patched her up as best he could and got her to the nearest settlement for proper treatment.

"Should we stop at Miss Moira's store for supplies?" Charon asked, in his almost robotic voice.

"And have her tell me to go digging in raider-infested ruins for something that might not even exist?" Claire asked, sarcastically. "I'll pass. I stocked up after we came back from the last errand. I'll check on Wadsworth before we head out, though. Tell him what needs to be done while we're gone, have him feed Dogmeat..."

As Claire was listing off the things we was going to tell Wadsworth (the Mister Handy that looked after her home), Moriarty came staggering out of the backroom. It was a well-known fact that Colin Moriarty sometimes slept in his backroom after "sampling" some of his own merchandise. Claire had a very neutral opinion of the saloon owner. He was a pig, but he was useful for information. If he suddenly "disappeared" one day, she wouldn't shed a tear. She often noticed Gob and Nova the innkeeper (a very loose term) talking privately and then suddenly stopping when Moriarty came within earshot.

"Well, if it isn't the hero and her freak." Moriarty said, in his Irish lilt. "Where are you two off to now? Goin' to rescue some poor little kittens from a tree?" Moriarty laughed, and the bar patrons force themselves to laugh along with him. "Before you go, darlin', you got another letter from that Burke gent."

Claire sighed, hoping of all the things Colin Moriarty could say to her, that wasn't one of them.

Mister Burke was a very strange man. No one knew him from Adam, but everyone from Megaton agreed he was dangerous or at least worked for dangerous people. Moriarty swears the man literally came from nowhere and was propped up in his corner seat waiting for some lucky (or foolish) opportunist to take him up on his offer. Moriarty figured him to be another snake-oil salesman and let him be. He paid for his drinks and his pockets were pretty deep. Moriarty was curious to how deep those pockets were. It was no secret he was up to something and the rumor that he wanted to detonate the dud bomb in the middle of the town started flying around. Rumors not being the best evidence, Sheriff Simms didn't have grounds to arrest Burke.

Claire had to admit Mister Burke was handsome for a man that was probably as old or older than her father, but she was still adjusting to life outside the Vault and didn't have much to compare him to. Everything she learned about sensibilities and decency had flown out the window. Burke introduced himself almost immediately and bought Claire a few drinks. Still somewhat fresh from the Vault, Claire only drank purified water. It was expensive, but Burke didn't seem to have a problem with cost. Almost abruptly after one of his anecdotes, Burke asked Claire to help him destroy Megaton and he was very persuasive. Panicking and knowing Moriarty was too amused by the spectacle to step in, Claire decided to sweet talk her way out of it, as she often did when she was in trouble in Vault 101. She had to up the ante a bit, because she wasn't negotiating punishment with her father for a bad test grade or getting caught raiding the cafeteria dessert pantry with Amata after lights out. It took all the charisma she could muster, plus some lines from a sappy Pre-War romance novel she once read, and hoped her seductive face didn't look silly.

Though she still had no idea how she managed it, she caused the mysterious Mister Burke to fall head over heels for her. When he ran out of the saloon, promising to send for her when his business was done, Claire sank in her chair, exhausted from the act she put on. Moriarty, who was laughing so hard he drowned out the static of the radio, thanked for her getting rid of that weirdo and said she had talent. When he stopped laughing, Moriarty winked at her and said if she ever needed extra caps, he could put that mouth of hers to work on Nova's night off. Claire politely refused.

"I thought you and Mister Burke 'broke up'." said Charon, watching Claire take the letter. Mister Burke often sent Claire letters, care of Moriarty. Moriarty made it clear many times that he ran a saloon, not a courier service. For the caps Burke was paying on delivery, Moriarty decided to keep the P.O. box open, so to speak.

"We were never together." Claire corrected, noting that the envelope had already been opened. No doubt by Moriarty himself. "I talked him out of destroying Megaton, he decided he was in love with me. I promise it's just as creepy as it sounds."

Charon made what might have passed for a smile if Claire knew what his smiles looked like. "It is not wise to play with the emotions of powerful men, Ma'am." He said. "Rumor is Mister Burke works for Allistair Tenpenny. He has the means to do lasting damage should he grow dissatisfied with this one-sided relationship."

Not looking concerned, Claire shrugged and unfolded the letter, expecting what it was going to say. She read a bit and sighed. "For what he was asking me to do, I think he deserves to dangle a bit before I throw him to the Mirelurks." She murmured, skimming the letter with her eyes. Claire was normally a fair minded woman, but she also had a vindictive side. She never tried to justify it, only saying that everyone has a dark side and to watch out for those that don't show it often. "He has a way with words, for a slimy bloatfly of a man. He apologizes for his last letter saying the loneliness got to him and he may have written things he regretted. He's preparing everything for my arrival and wishes to 'be' with me again."

"Oh, for cryin' out loud! The nutcase was never 'with' you!" Moriarty shouted, making no attempt to pretend he wasn't listening. He had his arms folded, with the glare of a disapproving father on his face. Claire knew it wasn't fatherly concern that caused Moriarty's outburst. It was well known that Moriarty had no patience for stupidity, despite his booze being the cause of most stupid actions around Megaton. "The man sees a girl in a tight Vault suit walk into a bar a few times, she feeds him a few lovey-dovey lines, and suddenly they're lovers? So you sweet talked him into not blowin' up our little hole into an even bigger hole. So what? How much of that was dumb luck? Want some advice, darlin'? Don't go tuggin' at that man's heartstrings unless you plan to play."

Claire stuffed the letter in her pack, not bothering to fold it back up. "I didn't know you cared, Moriarty." Claire said, with no enthusiasm in her tone.

"I don't." Moriarty said, plainly. "But I've seen some twisted shite in me life, and somethin' about Burke has 'kill you and live inside your eviscerated corpse' written all over him. The last thing I need is the ghost of your dear ol' dad hauntin' me because I couldn't stop his little girl from being made into a house coat by a lovesick maniac." Moriarty left to finish his "inventory" in the back room, but not before shouting at Gob to get back to work.

After thanking Gob for the drinks, and not laughing too hard when Gob flipped off Moriarty behind his back, Claire and Charon left the saloon. "Well, now we have another reason to head out. I doubt Mister Burke will follow us that far up north."

Charon looked unsure. He knew he could speak freely with Claire, but he rarely did. "Perhaps we should find Tenpenny Tower and set Mister Burke straight." Charon suggested.

Claire shook her head. "Slavers first, then matters of the heart." She said, though it was clear to Charon she had no intention of doing anything about the Burke situation. "I'm more scared of how angry Moriarty would be if we stopped his steady pay on delivery cash flow."

After returning home to resupply, Claire and Charon left Megaton on their long journey north. The map on her Pip-Boy gave her an idea of where they needed to go, but she hadn't ventured that far before. She felt safe with Charon, but knew there was only such much Charon could do if they got overrun by overzealous slavers. Claire hoped they wouldn't run into Talon Company again. Charon usually made short work of them and they never came into Megaton or any other settlement, but they somehow kept finding her when she was wandering around.

The journey was mostly silent. Charon wasn't much for conversation, so Claire did most of the talking. "I talked to Sentinel Lyons about what the Brotherhood plans to do with the Slavers at Paradise Falls." She said, though Charon could tell she was trying hard to fill the silence. "She said that with the acquisition of Adams Air Force Base still going on, any plans for local problems are on the back burner. They have patrols dealing with Enclave stragglers, but she says in a few years, they'll either be eliminated completely or give up and assimilate themselves into what counts as regular society. With Adams under Brotherhood control, the Enclave isn't coming back from this one."

Charon only nodded. "Sentinel Lyons is taking on a lot." He said.

"Elder Lyons is old and he's not in the greatest condition, so Sarah is pretty much running things right now." Claire chuckled a bit. "The man is well over seventy, I'm actually surprised he lived this long."

Charon only nodded. He looked up at the sky, noting there was a little blue among the greenish clouds today. "Old age for non-Ghouls is unusual." Charon said.

The conversation petered off after a few more miles. Claire looked up at the sky every so often, but wasn't sure what she was looking for. She looked at her Pip-Boy and tapped the screen a few times. "I'm not getting that weird garbled signal anymore." She mused. She wasn't sure what that signal was, but it was registering on her Pip-Boy radio as Recon Craft Theta Beacon. Whenever she tuned into it, it was mostly static and garbled noises. She figured it was probably a Pre-War distress signal that corrupted and now made nonsense noises. The Pip-Boy radio probably assigned the transmission with a random name to make sense of it. She decided to check it out after dealing with the slavers. If anything, it was probably a wrecked Pre-war military bunker with decent salvage.

It was almost sun down by the time Claire and Charon reached the northern area that could still be considered part of the Capitol Wasteland. The signal for the distress call was strongest here, but when Claire turned off the radio function, the area was oddly silent.

"I don't like this." Claire said, listening to the wind blow. She looked up at the big radio tower over the hill. "This has to be were the call came from. It's clear, but I don't see anyone. I hope we aren't too late."

Charon didn't respond right away. His attention was at a point to his right. "Over there!" he shouted, pointing his combat rifle to the east. "Sounds like a fight."

Claire grabbed her gun from its holster. Listening closely, Claire heard the sounds of an intense scuffle over the hill. She led the way up the path, though she decided to sneak her way there. She hoped to get the drop on whoever was over the ridge. To anyone else, it sounded like a bar fight gone bad. When Claire peeked over a hill, she saw a man in an eyepatch being attacked by what looked like raiders. Something was off about these men, though. They looked dirtier than most raiders looked. While the usual raider she encountered wasn't the most hygiene conscious person, they didn't look half as dirty as these men.

Instructing Charon to follow her lead, Claire maneuvered around the radio tower and aimed her pistol at one of the raiders attacking.

"Did you think Ashur wouldn't find out about your little plan?! Ashur has eyes everywhere!" one yelled, kicking the one-eyed man in the side when he was on the ground.

"You weren't exactly quiet about it, Wernher." said the lone woman of the group, who seemed to be taking a more supervisory role in the beating. "I'd say try harder next time, but there won't be one when we're through with you."

"You better hope you die on the way back, because what the boss has planned is a lot worse than this beat down!" another shouted, getting the stick he was obviously going to beat this man with ready.

A shot from nowhere whizzed by the woman's head. Her grabbing her ear and whirling around got the attention of her two cohorts. They stopped beating their target senseless to look up at the woman in the armored Vault suit and her tall Ghoul companion standing less than ten feet away. Her 10mm pistol was still smoking.

"Are you willing to stop and talk about this or do I have to actually aim next time?" Claire asked, still holding her pistol up. "I don't know what you guys were talking about, but I'm sure we can end this without everyone leaving with blood on their boots. What do you say?"

The raiders snarled at Claire. Their eyes were unlike anything she had seen in humans or sentient Ghouls before. Their eyes looked almost feral, as if they were a second away from latching onto her and taking a bite out of her shoulder blade. Claire was known for not looking before she leaped and on more than one occasion, literally doing that. She was confident in her 10mm pistol, but not so much in herself.

One raider licked his lips. "Girly, you picked the wrong time to play hero." He said, lunging at her.

"So, to the pain, then?" Claire sighed, shooting the lunging raider in the leg.

The raider recoiled and fell, clutching the gushing wound on his leg. He looked up and saw Charon pointing his combat shotgun directly at his face. "My boss seems to think this can be ended peacefully, though I have my doubts at this point. But she instructed me not to kill you, and I am honor bound to follow her orders. I am also honor bound to protect her should she be in danger, which invalidates her order. So, which did you want to be?"

The other raider ran to help his friend, only to be nearly shot in half by Charon's combat rifle. The wounded raider got up, as if empowered by his wound, and tackled Charon. Before Claire could react, the woman was in front of her, gun drawn.

"This doesn't concern you, girly." She snarled. "Move along before this gets ugly."

"Your gun is less than an inch from my face and your guy is attacking my partner. It's already ugly." Claire said.

Both women were distracted by the sound of Charon slamming his attacker against the rockface of the cliff nearby.

"Thanks for taking care of him. Now, more reward for me!" The woman said, turning to face Claire. Before anything else could happen, Claire shot the woman point blank in the stomach. The woman doubled over onto the ground and moaned as she bled out.

"Should I offer her a Stimpak?" Charon asked, wiping the raider's blood off his armor.

"Won't help her." Claire said, nudging the groaning woman before kicking her weapon into a nearby bush. "It'll just delay her dying for a few more hours. Even so, we're in the middle of scenic nowhere. The wasteland animals would get her before she could reach the nearest settlement."

The man the raiders were attacking, apparently the one from the broadcast called Wernher, stood up and rubbed the feeling back into his bruised leg. "Thank you for your help with those guys." He said, limping towards Claire and Charon. "They finally tracked me down. I thought I had more time." Wernher looked over his shoulder a few times, probably making sure there weren't more raiders nearby. He readjusted his eyepatch and tried to stand up straight. "You've come about the broadcast, right? Risky, I know, but it had to be done. So you know who I am. Who are you?"

Claire put her gun away. Charon checked the bodies of the raiders for anything good. "I'm Claire. That's Charon over there." She said, nodding to her Ghoul companion. Charon gave a brisk nod and went back to what he was doing. "We came because of the radio message. What's the problem?"

"Well now, a hero! Look at you!" Wernher said, a bit of mockery in his voice. "I come from a place to the northwest. It's called The Pitt. It's…well, it's be honest, the place is a nightmare; radiation, mutations, disease, and the worst of it, my people, some of the only survivors, are slaves. I have a chance to free them. All I need is an outsider's help before the chance is gone."

Claire started to get a bad feeling about this guy. There was more to this story than he was letting on. He didn't seem as eager as other escaped slaves she's talked to. He wasn't very anxious, despite constantly looking over his shoulder. He looked more like he was waiting for someone than making sure he hadn't been followed. Charon apparently shared this feeling, as he would later tell Claire. Charon wasn't too vocal about his opinions, though. Charon stepped up and handed everything useful he could get off the dead raiders to Claire. Nothing important, save for a few bottle caps and ammo. She handed the ammo back to Charon, knowing he'd get more use out of it than she would.

"What's wrong with your people?" Claire asked.

"To put it simple…" Wernher began, starting to stand up a little straighter now. "…we're slaves. We're some of the only healthy survivors but we're forced to work like animals."

"Did you just recently escape?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, that's why those guys were after me. As long as I know about the cure, I'm a threat. So, I ran." Wernher said as he popped his back a few times.

"If you're people need you, what are you doing here?" Claire asked, looking at Charon. She could tell he was thinking the same thing: something's up with this guy.

Wernher cleared his throat. "I'm on the run from our dead friends over there." He said, cocking his head to the group of dead raiders. "As soon as I found about about the cure, they came after me. And you can be damn sure they won't be the only ones."

Claire noticed he mentioned some kind of cure again. "Alright, slow down. A cure? A cure for what?" she asked.

"The Pitt's a mess." Wernher said. "Everyone is either sick, dying, or worse. It's in the water, the air, you can't escape it."

Claire backed up a step. "Does that mean…you're sick?" she asked, wincing in fear. She should have been used to all the horrible things the wasteland had to offer by now, but years of living in a clean Vault still had her grimacing at the thought of someone even sneezing near her.

Wernher looked somewhat amused by her reaction, but didn't laugh. "No, no, not like that." He said, though he didn't try to reassure her. "You can't catch it from me. It's the Pitt. You stay there a few years and no matter what, it'll get to you. The bastards that have my people, they've found a way to fight it off. Once they have it perfected, we don't stand a chance. So, I came out here looking for help and you stumbled along at the right time. I need you to come with me and help me get the cure. With it, we can turn the tables on them. Once we control the cure, Ashur will have no choice but the free the slaves."

Claire noted the lack of enthusiasm in his voice when he spoke of this supposed cure and his plan to help his people. Of course, he just narrowly escaped death at the hands of raiders, so she couldn't blame him for not being more excited.

"I get the free the slaves part, but what's your ultimate goal?" Claire asked. She knew he wasn't telling her everything. She had experience with people giving her missions without all the details, but that was usually so she wouldn't back out once she realized how dangerous the mission was. She couldn't blame people for that, though.

Wernher cleared his throat, which made Claire wince again. "The city is controlled by a man named Ashur. He's powerful and no one dares go against him." Wernher sighed. "…except me. I need you to sneak into the Pitt and find a way to get close enough to him to get the cure. Nothing to it, right?"

Last time someone said that to Claire, she ended up captured by the Enclave and nearly killed by a megalomaniac and a super computer with an identity crisis. Claire also knew that anything worth doing wouldn't be easy. If it was easy as walking into a building, kicking open a door, grabbing a jar of unknown liquid and leaving, Wernher wouldn't be out here in the middle of nowhere asking for help.

"Why couldn't you do it?" Claire asked.

Wernher looked like he was getting impatient. "They know that I know about the cure. They'll be looking for me by now. That's why those guys came all the way out here. I needed an outsider, someone who has no connection to the Pitt or Ashur and nothing to gain from him. Someone with the strength to do what needs to be done. Getting close to Ashur is the key to getting the cure for the mutations. Everyone in the Pitt is mutated in some way. Some are just sick. Some are…worse. The cure is with the bosses. We get the cure, we take control of the city and free my people."

Claire was hesitant. She looked to Charon, who only glanced at her. "Give us a minute." She said to Wernher as she and Charon walked over to the rocks to talk. She noted in her mind that Wernher was oddly patient for a man claiming to be trying to save his family and friends. She decided to reflect on this later. "What do you think, Charon?" she asked in a whisper.

"Boss, this man is hiding something." Charon said, in the lowest voice he could muster. "I can tell by the way he keeps looking over his shoulder. He does not make eye contact with you. He is skipping over important details, as well."

"He wouldn't be the first person to do that." Claire said, glancing over at Wernher. "Do you think he's downplaying the danger to keep the price low?"

"He has yet to establish a price or reward." Charon corrected. "He keeps putting more emphasis on getting this cure over getting his friends out of the Pitt."

Claire nodded. "I noticed that, too. Maybe he's playing the sympathy card. Even so, there are people suffering from something in that place and being enslaved isn't helping them. Slavers are a blight on society, making money off people's suffering instead of their own hard work. I have no respect for people too lazy to do their own work, and even less respect for people who buy other human beings to do it."

She noticed the look on Charon's face when she finished her sentence. The irony of her saying that wasn't lost to him.

Claire cleared her throat. "Not that I consider you a slave, Charon." She said, with a nervous laugh. "I mean, I consider this a partnership. I pull my weight and I always share what we get with you! I know I bought your contract from Ahzrukhal and you follow my commands…not to say I command you to do anything! I mean…I always ask you first before I make you do something…NOT THAT I MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING!"

Charon smirked and waved his hand at her, telling her to stop panicking. Claire often wondered if she was no better than the slavers she despised. The rules of Charon's contract were very specific, or rather, worded to make him sound like a hired hand. Claire wasn't sure how old the contract was or who had first wrote it. She remembered Ahzrukhal saying he was the latest of Charon's "employers" and Charon was conditioned to follow orders to whomever held his contract. He never said by whom, though. Charon never discussed it. Claire figured he would when he was ready.

Claire calmed down, knowing now wasn't the time to have this discussion with Charon again. "At any rate, an entire population is under this Ashur guy's thumb, and if even half of what this guy says it correct, than they need help."

"It seems risky. But that has not stopped you before, Boss." Charon said.

"True." Claire said. "So, do you think we should help this guy?"

Charon only shrugged. "I am honor bound to follow your lead, Ma'am. If you want to run into the gates of Hell, I will be right behind you."

Claire chuckled. "It won't come to that, Charon." She glanced over at Wernher, who would probably be glancing at a watch if he owned one and knew how it worked. Claire nodded. "I hope not, at least. We'll figure out if he's up to something later. Something tells me he plays a bigger role in this than just an escaped slave." Claire and Charon walked over to Wernher. "Alright, we'll help you." She said.

Wernher only smirked. Claire wasn't expecting him to jump up and hug her, but was expected more than a smirk. "Good. Now, your first move would be to get a disguise. They won't let some random armed waster in the gates, but if you look like one of the working stiffs, you should be able to slip in with no problems. Lucky for us, there is a a group of Slavers nearby waiting to make a sale. You should be able to get one off of them. They're off to the west, near the tunnel that leads to the Pitt. That should be our first move."

 _That's oddly convenient…_ Claire thought, looking Wernher up and down. "A disguise sounds like a good idea. We should help those slaves while we're at it."

"Whatever, just get the outfit off one of them while you're playing hero." Wernher said, impatiently. "I'll meet you at the tunnel when you're done. It's a long trip, so take only what you'll need. You won't be coming back for a while, so keep that in mind."

Claire and Charon watched Wernher limp back to his makeshift campsite to address his wounds. They didn't bother going over to get more information from Wernher and just starting walking westward. Now Claire was sure there was something Wernher wasn't telling her. Her gut told her he was up to something bigger and needed a patsy as leverage. Wernher went from nearly begging for help to acting like it didn't matter if she helped him or not.

She thought about this while helping Charon take out the slavers at the nearby camp. The slaves, grateful to be free, gladly let Claire take whatever she wanted from the camp as they scurried off. In the middle of a pin was a dead slave. Claire winced, but took the outfit anyway. It wasn't a flattering outfit, which made Claire wonder if she was going to the Pitt or being tricked into working at a brothel. Claire went behind the nearby shack and changed into the new outfit.

"Good! You got the disguise!" said Wernher, running up to her.

Claire shrieked in surprise, which made Charon run to her from his spot. "Whoa! Where did you come from?!" she shouted.

"I followed you." Wernher said. "I've gotten good at staying out of sight."

Claire adjusted her disguise and rolled up her armored Vault suit. She shoved it into her pack and slung it over her shoulder. "Alright, I got the…disguise. Should we head towards the tunnel?"

Wernher nodded. "It's just over this way." Wernher led the way. It was a short walk to the tunnel. A mostly intact train tunnel that had been closed long ago, the main entrance to the tunnel had been shuttered, but there was a side maintenance entrance. Claire didn't see how far the tracks themselves when outside the tunnel entrance. She met Werner by the maintenance door. "Before we go, there's one last thing. We only have enough supplies for two. He has to stay behind. Besides, we don't need a…" Werner looked at the tall Ghoul. "…whatever he is tagging along with us. He'll bring too much unwanted attention."

Claire looked up at Charon and saw him shrug. She could tell he had no respect for Wernher and the feeling was obviously mutual. She found it odd that Wernher had never seen a Ghoul before. Ghouls were everywhere. Was the radiation in this place so bad that Ghoulification skipped right over the feral stage? Was there any stage _after_ feral? What kind of place was Claire walking into?

After Wernher told her he'd meet her inside, Claire turned to Charon. "Something tells me he's not up for negotiating, even if we bring our own supplies. I'm pretty sure he isn't about to sell me to slavers. If this was a trick to make me the fall guy for whatever he's really up to, then I aim to find out what I'm playing patsy to. Charon, go on home to Megaton and wait for me to contact you."

Charon looked unsure. "Boss, this has bad news written all over it."

"I know." Claire said, handing her pack to Charon. She brought along her pistol and a few stimpaks, just to be safe. "Whatever's really going on, I'm going to stop it and help those people before this disease spreads to the Capital. I'll contact you as soon as I'm able. They must have a radio system or something up there. Keep the ham radio at home on our frequency and I'll update you when I can."

Charon looked like he wanted to protest, but he only nodded. "Be safe, Boss." Is all Charon said before he started walking away. Claire didn't want to believe this might be the last time she saw Charon, but that was a possibility today. She had been on many adventures with him and he always saved her when she couldn't handle everything. Claire watched as Charon went over a few hills and out of view. She sighed inwardly and went through the maintenance door.

Wernher was waiting for her by a handcar. "Ready?" he asked, as he jumped on the handcar. Claire nodded and jumped on. "Good. The way to the Pitt is a complicated series of tunnels. It might take a day or two, seeing as these tunnels are pretty old and crumbling in some spots. It'll be a while before you come back." Werner looked Claire straight in the eyes for the first time since they met. "…if you come back at all."

Claire took her place on the handcar. Wernher was up to something, and she thought about this as he worked the handcar. For all she knew, there was no slave revolution in the works and Wernher was probably going to knock her out and sell her. Or probably eat her. But she thought back to her earlier conversation with Charon. Slavers weren't known for their convoluted planning. Simple bait and switch was their main tactic for getting "merchandise".

Whatever was really going on, Claire was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if it meant shooting her way out.

* * *

 **Hi, hi, all!**

 **Yes, my Lone Wanderer's name is Claire. I always called mine Claire, because it felt like the kind of Pre-War name someone would have in a Vault. Yes, I know she wasn't actually born in the Vault, just go with me, alright?**

 **I'm probably using the term "Bait and Switch" wrong in this context, but it seemed to work. A "bait and switch" is a type of scam where you promise someone something and then sucker them into getting an item they didn't originally intend to get, while still promising the best deal. It's not until much later that the consumer realizes they've been had. In simple terms: thinking you're getting something good, but then end up with something completely different and most times, much worse. But I think the whole "help me save my people" snake-oil Wernher tries to sell you when you first meet him meets the criteria. And boy, does the Lone Wanderer fall for it hook, line, and sinker.**

 **Okay, enough fishing puns.**

 **So, this is the second chapter of my side project. I've quiet for a while because I've had some things going on in my private life that needed to be addressed. For starters, I got a promotion at my job and that's been taking most of my energy lately. It's earlier days and longer hours, but I'm actually enjoying it.**

 **When I first encountered Mister Burke in my first playthrough, I wasn't sure what to make of that conversation. I always get the black widow perk when it becomes available so it made the conversation easier. A little too easy, though. The love notes Burke sent my character afterwards were very confusing. We had one conversation and now you're ready to spend your life with me? Someone who left a Vault less than a month ago? Dude is a creep.**

 **I plan on this being about six chapters at the most, since I can't get Fallout 3 to work properly on my computer to do proper research. Fallout 3 isn't compatible with Windows 10, and while I'm sure there are some go-arounds to make it work properly, I'm not about to do all that. I'll just have to rely on memory, the Fallout wiki, and let's-play videos for that.**

 **When I first played the DLC for The Pitt, I remember thinking that Wernher's attitude toward the entire "help me save my people" spiel was a little off. He put a lot of emphasis on getting the cure and not what the cure can do for this people. I had a feeling, even when playing it fresh years ago, that Wernher would play a bigger role in the end then just "You saved us, thank you, here's some cash".**

 **I'm probably going to skip over a lot of unimportant parts to get through this story, but I wanted to get the basics down. The next chapter will probably skip ahead to Claire getting the ingots she needs to get an audience with Ashur. I'll make it work, I promise.**

 **For those wondering by my other fic, The Battle Coat, that also has a chapter in the works.**

 **So, how did I do? Did you like the chapter? Let me know in a review and I'll take this story off side-project status and onto the main projects burner along with the Battle Coat.**

 **Read, review, and be merry!**

 **Fallout belongs to Bethesda.**


	3. City of the Damned

_Sickness_

City of the Damned

"Billy! It's me! Your brother, John-John! Don't you remember?" the slave said to the snarling beast behind the fence. "You remember me, don't you, Billy?"

Claire heard the exchange as she walked down the ramp into the steelyard. She had only been in the Pitt for a day and a half and she was already sickened beyond belief. Claire had been in the wasteland long enough to know the world wasn't a good place filled with good people going out of their way to do good things. She had seen many things since leaving the comfort of Vault 101 to look for her father. But now, as she stood outside this rusted fence at this man trying to talk some sense into what was left of his brother, Claire knew things ran differently here.

When they arrived at the end of the train tunnel a day or so before, Wernher and Claire were met by a sky blackened by smoke coming from a nearby factory. Her Pip-Boy said it was almost 3pm, but the skies already looked black as midnight. She knew this wasn't natural, but that word was pretty loose nowadays. Wernher ran ahead a little bit and told her to let him do all the talking. Claire heard Wernher argue with a filthy looking raider and then open fire.

Claire pulled out her 10mm and aimed, but Wernher had already made short work of them. Now Claire was positive there was something Wernher wasn't telling her. She followed Wernher up to a closed gate and started going through when he stopped her.

"This is as far as I can go." He said. "It's up to you from here on out. If you stay dressed as a slave, they'll let you pass through the gate without any problems. Once you're inside, find a slave called Midea. She'll be able to help you." Wernher motioned her through the gate and then closed it behind her. He handed her a .32 pistol through a hole in the fence. "They'll take your gun the moment you walk into the city, so conceal the one I just gave you. Remember, you must gain access to Ashur and find the cure. I'll be in contact with you, soon."

Claire nodded, tucking the .32 into a private place in her slave garb. "Get in, find Midea. Got it." She said, straightening out her outfit.

"Good luck." Wernher said, though it sounded more like a formality than a sincere wish. "We're all counting on you."

With that, Wernher locked the gate and ran off to parts unknown. If Claire never saw him again, she knew she wouldn't cry too many tears. She didn't trust him, but she figured it was too late to point that out. Claire made her way up the hill toward a big bridge. Fires burned in old drums along the road to light the path, adding to the unnatural darkness of the day. She stopped just before the bridge to take in the sights around her. In the distance, she saw more smoke stacks spewing out smoke and who knows what else over the decaying remains of whatever this city used to be. She tried to remember back in her school days, what Mr. Brotch said this place was. Though the maps in the Vault classroom were unreliable nowadays, she remembered hearing about a place called Pittsburg from before the war. Was she really that far up north?

From what she remembered, they manufactured steel in this place before the war. Steel used to make anything and everything. From the looks of it, it seemed people were still making steel. But for what, Claire didn't know. She knew she was going to find out soon, anyway.

The big sign over the bridge at one point was a Welcome to Pittsburg sign. Half of Pittsburg had been crossed out and it now read "Welcome to The Pitt." Under it, the sign read "Visit PA! Enjoy Your Stay!" Claire had no intention of doing either while she was here. She could see down to the river below the bridge. The water was so polluted, even Project Purity couldn't help it. Globs of unknown substance rose to the surface of the water and made Claire sick to her stomach. She decided to press on, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

Crossing the bridge was no problem at first. It became difficult as the raider taking pot shots at her made himself known. Claire crouched behind some old cars and hoped he'd lose interest or run out of ammo. She didn't have good visibility to take aim with the rather sad looking .32 Wernher had given her, and her 10mm probably wouldn't do much better. Claire stayed behind the rusted car until the raider stopped shooting. She slowly made her way around a few other cars when she heard a familiar beeping noise.

Looking down, Claire spotted a landmine. It started beeping faster. Not wanting a repeat of what happened in Minefield, Claire ran towards another group of cars and ducked, watching the explosion take out a few of the other cars. She had to be careful, now. These weren't the drugged-up raiders she was used to dealing with. These raiders actually thought out how to quell their slaves. Looking up and noting that the raider sniper was too distracted by the light show the exploding cars were giving off, Claire thought about leaping over the barricade and using the sidewalk. What was once a walking section of the bridge was now lined with bear traps.

Claire decided not to test fate at this time of the smoggy night and kept herself crouched behind the cars as she made her way off the bridge. Thankfully, she avoided more landmines. She couldn't say the same for the group of slaves making a mad dash toward freedom. Before she could tell them to stop, each one exploded to the tune of beeping landmines. She kept her eyes covered, but she could still hear their screams of pain and their last breathes wishing for freedom. Those were the sounds that would haunt Claire for a long time afterward.

"Haha! I love it when slaves come back!" said the raider at the big gate. She would later learn through the other slaves that this guy's name was Mex. "What's wrong? Couldn't make it over the bridge? You're lucky I don't waste you right where you stand."

Claire shouldn't have been surprised that all slaves looked alike to the raiders. But it had to be obvious she wasn't one of them. Maybe the disease affected eyesight first. Or perhaps not, as the next thing Mex proceeded to do was snatch Claire's pack as he yanked her through the gate.

"Well, well! What do we have here?" Mex laughed, holding Claire's pack just out of her reach. "Jackpot! Looks like you scored some nice gear while you were out, Scab. Mine now!" Mex pushed Claire to the ground when she tried to jump for her pack. "Now, get back in there and get to work! Next time I see you outside these gates, I'm throwing you to the trogs!"

Claire didn't realize she still had the .32 on her as she stood up. If she had realized sooner, she would have shot this man point blank and took her things back. She walked through the next gate while listening to Mex's laughter as he rummaged through her stuff. She left anything that meant anything to her with Charon, so they wouldn't see anything too personal.

The city proper was worse than Claire had imagined. It smelled like smoke and death, something she expected from what was essentially a massive raider hideout. She tried to ignore the raider interrogating three malnourished slaves by the entrance. She knew how it would end and she wanted to help them, but she probably would have ended up on the ground as well. Claire hadn't felt so powerless since she left the Vault. She tried to ignore the sounds of a raider killing three innocent people as they walked away, but it was hard.

It wouldn't be until later that Claire realized innocent was not a word used widely around here. Claire side stepped trash and rubble near a giant hole where slaves were stripping down steel and saw someone wave her over from a nearby alley. In between the scaffolding stood a woman in a rag dress with a bandana on her head. Claire looked around, the make sure she wasn't waving at someone else. When no one else seemed to acknowledge this woman, Claire made her way to the alley, avoiding the raider guards.

"Did Wernher send you?" the woman asked. "I'm glad he finally found someone." The woman jumped at a passing guard, though the guard didn't seem to be interested in their conversation. "We can't talk out in the open like this. Meet me in my house as soon as you can. We'll talk there."

Claire followed this woman, hoping she wasn't being led into a trap. At this point, she wouldn't have been surprised if she suddenly got jumped by raiders. But she didn't have Charon to back her up, nor did she have any useful weapons. Claire looked up at the sky again, barely seeing the sun. If her Pip-Boy hadn't told her it was late afternoon, she would have believed it was night time. Claire wondered why they didn't attempt to take her Pip-Boy. Maybe they didn't see the worth in it like she did. Or maybe they knew that this model was biometrically stuck to her wrist.

"Alright, they saw you come in, but they'll come after you if we take too long." said the woman as she closed the door behind Claire. "I'm Midea. I'm working with Wernher. If we're going to get you into Ashur's place, we're going to have to wait. In the meantime, you'll have to blend in."

Despite talking in whispers, this Midea woman talked fast. Claire barely had time to get her bearings straight. "I'm Claire." She said. Claire looked around the little home of Midea, noting it was sparsely decorated and didn't look comfortable at all. She couldn't blame Midea for not fixing the place up for a guest, though. Claire wasn't expecting tea and cookies and light conversation, but she at least wanted a few answers before getting down to business. "This place is a nightmare." Claire said again, hoping Midea didn't think she was talking about the modest little hovel. "Can you give me a rundown of what's going on here?"

Midea sighed impatiently. Claire wasn't sure what Midea was in such a hurry for. It wasn't like they had a tight schedule to keep for whatever revolution they were planning. "I don't know what you saw on the way in, but I promise it's much worse than it looks. Listen, we have to be quick. The guards don't take kindly to workers standing around. If you don't look busy and miserable, they're going to know something's up. And despite your disguise, it's pretty clear you don't belong here. You're too clean, like you've had time to actually sleep and take care of yourself. They sniff you out as an infiltrator, they'll throw you to the trogs. So, let's get down to business before they suspect anything is off."

Seeing that Midea had a point, Claire nodded. "Alright, what's the plan?"

"Your first task is a little job we call 'collecting the trash'. Outside the old mills, steel ingots lay around. The Foreman sometimes puts out a work order to collect them if the orders in the mill aren't making them fast enough. They are never fast enough. That means heading into the steelyard and collecting them manually. Think of it as an initiation, of sorts; except it's to a club you don't want to be a part of. It's a death sentence, but they never actually assign anyone to do it. They make us pick the 'lucky' person to do it. Bastards."

"Let me guess, the area is filled with super mutants?" Claire asked, as if she's heard this all before.

Midea looks at Claire incredulously. "What the hell is a super mutant? Nevermind, you're wrong anyway. Whatever that is, what lives in the steelyard is much worse. The area is full of Trogs."

There was that word again. She heard it so many times, she was starting to get sick of it. "What the hell is a Trog?" Claire asked. "Everyone keeps threatening to throw me to them."

Midea winced at the thought. Midea suddenly looked sad and sat in a wobbly chair near the door. This was apparently worth slowing down for. "They're what we all hope to never become. The contamination from the pollution of the mills added with radiation. To some people, it's a form of cancer; sometimes harmless, sometimes not. If it doesn't kill you first, it turns you into something…horrible. It drives you insane, to the point where you're nothing more than an animal. You forget your senses and you kill on sight. They live on instinct alone. Your best defense against them is to get a weapon from Marco, in the mill. He makes weapons out of some of our tools. Or you can forage for a weapon off one of the unluckier slaves in the yard. Or maybe-" she stopped midsentence. "-wait, what was that?!"

Both women turned around the see the door swing open from being kicked in by a raider's foot. A guard holding up a gun barged in. "What's going on in here, Midea?" the guard asked, calmer than his grand entrance would have suggested. He looked Claire up and down but then looked back to Midea.

"N-Nothing, sir." Midea panicked. "I was just telling this new worker about the job the Foreman posted. I told her everything she needs to know. Ten ingots, as fast as she can."

The guard laughed. "So, she's the unlucky winner this time?" The guard sized up Claire. He gave her a lustful smile and then shook his head. "Damn shame. I hope you also said good bye! Breaktime's over! Back to work, both of you!"

Midea shook her head. "That's Jackson. He's a disgusting pig like the rest of them." Midea sighed. "I know it seems bad, but this is the best chance we have at getting the cure. The cure can save all of us from this terrible disease! You saw it on the workers and you'll see more as you work, but we've all got it. The more they force us to work in this mess, the worse it gets. People have started turning Trog faster than ever before." Midea crossed her arms, as if trying to comfort herself. "I was born here shortly after the Brotherhood Scourge and will likely die here. I've lived my entire life under Ashur's boot heel. The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of turning the tables on that bastard. The Pitt isn't as bad as it was before Ashur took over, according to some of the few old timers. I don't even want to imagine what it was like then. Some of the stories I heard as a little girl about Trogs and Wildmen…" Midea quivered. "Sometimes I think, are things really better with Ashur here? He's had people brought in from all over to serve as 'workers' when the original population started to dwindle. He's been bringing in more and more every day and soon the new workers will outnumber the originals. Now, enough conversation! Get out there and look busy!"

With that, Midea pushed Claire out the door and shut it behind her. Claire didn't bother to try and open it again. She started walking towards the mill, ignoring the horrid smell of the slog someone was cooking and the sounds of a raider beating another slave for being on the scaffolding above.

"E-Excuse me?" warbled a voice behind Claire. Claire turned around and nearly jumped out of her shoes. A women with horrible facial scarring stood before her. She looked scared, and kept looking around as if expecting something bad. "You're new here, aren't you? I can tell by the confused look on your face." This woman sounded like she was one word away from bursting into tears. "My name is Millie, and I just heard Jackson say that 'the new girl' is going to the mills. You don't have to, but could you do something for me when you get there?"

Claire sized this woman up. She was skinny, had weird scars all over her face and arms, and half her head was shaved. Or maybe her hair fell out, Claire wasn't sure. "What do you need?" Claire asked, trying not to cry herself from the sight of this woman.

"My friend, Wild Bill, went in after some ingots a while ago. He volunteered so no one would be forced to go in. The mill is a death sentence. It's been a week and I'm scared something's happened to him. If you're heading to the mill, could you look for him?" Millie rubbed her scarred upper arms as if trying to warm herself.

"I'll keep a lookout for him." Claire said.

Millie smiled as best she could with the odd marks on her face. It kind of reminded Claire of Charon. She hoped he was okay. Millie thanked Claire and looked like she was about to hug her when Claire stepped back a bit. Millie smiled a sad smile, remembering that Claire was new and didn't know better. Claire's thoughts stayed on Millie and Midea during her entire walk to and through the mill. The sounds of heavy machinery, the heat from the molten materials, and the raiders shouting abuse to the slaves didn't seem to bother her. Claire could see why the Brotherhood wanted to destroy all of this twenty years ago. She knew they'd have a field day with it today.

The suffering, the laughter of the uncaring raiders, and the anger that coursed through her as she was pushed into the steelyard gave Claire the mindset she needed to complete this mission. The people here were dying and suffering all for whoever this Ashur guy is. They worked hard, some fell dead where they stood, and who knows what happened in that weird pit looking area in the middle of the mill that she passed by on her way here. All while this Ashur person sat comfortably wherever he was.

She looked up at the sky as she left the mill. The sky looked sick as well. At least in the Capitol Wasteland, the sky was occasionally blue. It had an odd green tint to it, but it was still blue. Would these people be able to see a sky without the smoke spewing from the factories?

As Claire came back to herself and looked in on the man trying to reason with the horrible creature before him, Claire took out her hidden .32 and aimed for the monster. This thing, this "Trog" was not this man's brother anymore. Because of Ashur's neglect and the raider's abuse, John-John's brother was now a monster. The monster lunged at John-John, but Claire's quick movement put Billy out of his misery before he could hurt his brother. John-John fell to his knees and cried pitiful tears over the Trog.

"Billy…" he moaned, through sniffling and crocodile tears. "I'm so sorry…"

Claire opened the sack she found by the dead slave at the mill door and took out some ingots. She gave them to John-John, told him to get out of here, and turned away to begin her duties. She heard hurried footsteps but didn't know if they were John-John's. She didn't have time to make sure, as she felt inhuman eyes watching her. Could these monsters be redeemed? Probably not. But the people here could. They could be freed and they had her, Wernher, and Midea to help get the ball rolling.

As she began her quest for the ingots, Claire decided, one way or another, that she was going to free this city of the damned. Even if it meant razing it to the ground again.

* * *

 **Hi, hi, everyone!**

 **So, computer issues and issues at work have made my updating pretty sporadic. I like to keep myself on a regular update basis, but until I get myself back into a steady routine, most of my fics are probably going to be here and there as far as updates go. I'll keep working and keep getting them out as best I can, but I won't give you guys any false promises. Just bear with me on this.**

 **Good news is I got a new laptop that I hope will help me update more. Being mobile has always been essential to my creative process, because inspiration can hit you out of nowhere. When I decided to go pull PC gaming, I got rid of my Alienware laptop which I had been using for gaming and writing, and had a friend help me build my own rig. I love my gaming rig, but I realized how much I hate being stationary when I do my work. So, I decided to get myself a decent laptop to write and browse on and keep my rig for exclusively gaming. I'm still working out everything on my end but I hope to have something permanent in the future.**

 **Speaking of, because I can't run Fallout 3 without my computer crashing after an hour or so (Fallout 3 isn't compatible with Windows 10), I had to get outside help from let's play videos and my own memory. If you ever feel the need to watch let's play videos, I highly recommend Oxhorn's videos. He's informative, he's all about showing you the consequences of your actions in games, and he's got a nice smooth voice to boot.**

 **So, what do you think? Leave me a review and let me know how I did. I'm going to try and be more regular with my updates now that I have most of my issues worked out, so drop me a comment and keep me going!**

 **Read, review, and be merry!**

 **Fallout belongs to Bethesda.**


	4. The Cure for Madness

_Sickness_

The Cure for Madness

There was a strange sense of pride going through Claire as she watched Gruber fall to the ground. It wasn't the same type of pride she got when she ceremoniously dumped two large sacks of steel ingots in front of Everett the guard after a day and a half inside the steelyard. The pride that came with getting stimpaks and armor as payment for nearly dying in the blast furnace didn't compare to the feeling of tearing a man down with the Auto-Axe she found in the steelyard.

The horrible cheers from the raiders above soon knocked the prideful feeling out of Claire and replaced it with horrified disgust. The slaves had unanimously picked her to fight in the arena, and despite the chides and the jeers from the Raiders, she survived. As Claire's auto-axe stopped whirring and she wiped some of Gruber's blood off her new armor, the full gravity of the situation started to hit her. She had to find a way to turn this wild goose chase into a full-scale migration before more slaves were sent to be slaughtered here.

The attitudes of the raiders suddenly turned from mocking to respectful when Claire stepped out of the arena. A crowd had formed to welcome the newest member of the fold. Claire received congratulations, pats on the back, and even her gear back as a reward. Apparently, her stuff from the Capitol Wastes was so nice, it was to be given as a prize. Or, that's what she thought, anyway. At any rate, she was just happy to have her things back. Her gun, the same 10mm she took from her father's desk when escaping the Vault, was still in the pack.

"Well now, ain't you the scrapper?" said the raider next to the box with her gear. "Congratulations. You've earned an audience with Ashur. He wishes to see you. The guards have been told to let you pass. I highly recommend accepting his invitation. You don't want to know what happens if you keep him waiting. You can usually find him in Haven, his tower in Uptown. He watches over the city from there. Take the northeast path and look for the highest tower in the city. I promise, you can't miss it."

Maybe it was the new armor she was wearing instead of the slave outfit, but the slaves that volunteered her for the arena battle were less than supportive when she walked out. Claire noticed their paranoia and honestly didn't blame them for it. Power can be addictive. She saw its folly in the Capitol. Having nothing and then suddenly having the world at your feet can be overwhelming. Of course, Claire tried to convince herself that she was humble. Yes, she just systematically killed people for the amusement of raiders. Yes, she was probably the best fighter they had seen in a long time. And yes, she stayed alive long enough to enjoy the cheers. But she still had a mission. Despite their newfound paranoia of her, Claire had to free these people. She had to help them.

Maybe they'd stop looking at her like a pickpocket at a market. At least, she hoped they would.

Claire thought about visiting Midea and going over the next part of the plan, but she knew the raiders were watching. If they saw her talk to Midea before going to Uptown, it might blow her cover.

"Good, just in time." Midea had said when Claire walked back into her home after her steel mill run. "Ashur has called everyone into the square. I think that means he's going to open up the arena."

Claire had burn marks on her clothes, dirt and God only knows what else on her skin, and she was sure she had a new bruise or two. But despite looking like a deathclaw chewed her up and spit her back out, Claire still sat on Midea's bed and listened. "An arena?" was all Claire could muster the energy to say. Midea handed Claire a dirty towel, though it wasn't wet. She would have been more suspicious if it was, so Claire decided to take it graciously.

"From time to time, Ashur opens up the arena. Any slave that wants can fight against the gladiators. If you win, you get your freedom. If you really impress, you get an audience with Ashur. It's the only way a slave will ever get to talk to him directly. You fight, you win, and when you talk to Ashur, you take the cure."

Claire wiped the soot and smoke stains off her skin as best she could with the towel. "And Ashur will just give it to me?" Claire asked, incredulously.

"No, not exactly. Wernher has been working on a…shall we say, distraction? We haven't been risking our lives making weapons for fun, you know. You'll have to take it, possibly by force. I wouldn't shed a tear if you kill him, but it shouldn't be necessary. Fight in the arena and prove your worth to the raiders. You're tough, you can win it. You haven't been exposed to this mess, so you're still strong. You get in, wait for the 'distraction', get the cure, and bring it back to me."

Claire thought about this as she followed Midea outside to the square. She wouldn't have any problem killing Ashur and taking whatever this cure was. If he indeed had a cure for whatever was infecting these people, he probably kept it safe somewhere on his person or in a very good safe. She had watched Ashur make his way along the scaffolding to the square, just out of reach of the slaves he lorded over. He looked scorched, like he had been working in the mills with the others. Some of the slaves looked in awe of him, but the older ones (ones with more scars and burn marks) looked at him with skepticism. They knew better than to believe the Orwellian radio broadcasts, and so did Claire. But the way he spoke still gave her some twisted since of hope. After the raiders shouted at the slaves to shut up and listen, Ashur began his speech.

" _Citizens of The Pitt, workers of Downtown, traders of Uptown, and all fierce souls who do what must be done! I bring you good news! We stand at the dawn of a new golden age. Where others merely survive, we thrive! Our industry is the envy of the Commonwealth! Our safety is the envy of the Capital Wastes! Our might is the envy of Ronto! And while I have led your efforts, it has been by your own strength that you have earned all the envy of the world. They envy the steel shaped by the workers in our mills, and they envy the strength of our traders and raiders who wield that steel for The Pitt. And most of all, they envy our victories in the struggle for freedom. Because, yes, freedom is what we all work towards. Freedom from fear, freedom from disease, freedom to live as once we did before we were shackled by atomic fire! And so, to celebrate this struggle, I ask my loyal workers: who among you is prepared to fight for your freedom? Who among you will risk your life in the crucible to create a new life of freedom in Uptown? Who will take this rare chance to thrive?"_

Claire must have still been in awe of Ashur's charisma and booming voice, because she had certainly been surprised when Midea volunteered her before she could even raise her own hand. "Over here!" Midea shouted, yanking Claire's hand in the air and waving it. "We have one! This woman will fight in the hole!" Claire looked shocked at the energy Midea suddenly had. "Send her! Send someone who actually stands a chance!"

"Very well, Midea!" Ashur shouted, pointing to Midea and Claire. "This woman shall be your champion!"

Midea yanked Claire to the front of the crowd, where she got a good look at the man these slaves feared and hated. Ashur looked older than his voice would have suggested, but still carried the authority of a man that had seen many battles. Claire noticed he was wearing power armor. Power armor was hard to find outside of the Brotherhood of Steel. It was a T45 model, from what Claire could tell. It had been modified heavily, though more slap-dash and improvised modifications by the looks of it. Where the Brotherhood insignia would be, it was painted yellow and black. Did it once have a Brotherhood insignia? Claire didn't know.

"You, madam, not only carry the dream that workers can become free, but the dream that one day we can all be truly free from the threats of our world!" Ashur started half-hearted applause, which the rest of the crowd join into when the raider guards held up their guns. "Prepare yourself. When you are ready to be forged anew, report to the mill." Ashur gave Claire a proud smile that reminded her of her father. He then glared at the other slaves and the look of disgust came back. "The rest of you are dismissed."

The crowd dispersed to light murmuring and the guards telling them to get back to work. Before Claire could ask, Midea started walking back to her home. "Go to the mill, find Faydra. She sets up the fights. We're all counting on you."

Claire thought about this as she grabbed her things and left the arena. The impressed looks at the raiders gave her no kind of thrill at all. Everything was happening so fast. She had only been in the Pitt for a little under a week and already everything was set in motion. Claire wasn't even sure what "everything" was.

The raiders along the walkways to Uptown were a combination of impressed and annoyed. To them, Claire was just another contender for food and Ashur's favor. Ashur's favor seemed to be a more valuable resource, as most of the raiders talked down to Claire when she was looking around.

"Don't think you're so special, kid." said a raider by the name of Duke. He was hanging around a small bar area when Claire made her way through. "You ain't the first to work your way out of the mud. And you ain't the last."

"How many have actually worked their way up from that hole down there?" Claire asked, though she wasn't really interested in anything these raiders had to say.

"Not a lot of us like to admit we used to be like them below." Duke said. "The rest are just toughs from the wasteland that wanted to join the biggest gang around. Just watch yourself, kid. No one got to Uptown by playing nice."

Claire nodded and kept walking. She could hear the ambient conversations of some raiders along the walks. Claire had been lost in her thoughts when she finally made her way off the walkways. She had been racking her mind on what she needed to do and how she could do it. She wasn't sure what to expect when the raiders told her to find Haven, Ashur's fortress. What stood before her was a sight that would haunt Claire's dreams for years. At the end of the walkways and over a rickety bridge stood a tall building with a grotesque statue in front of it.

Something about the sky at that moment would cement this in Claire's mind for years. The sky was dark, almost red with the sun shining through the smoke plumes of a nearby factory. The statue itself was no piece of art, made mostly of twisted metal and viscera from some unlucky slave. The sculpture was contorted to look like a man writhing in pain, and Claire thought it was apt considering. She walked between what she guessed were the legs, feeling a little drop of blood hit the top of her head as she did.

Claire hid the look of disgust and walked toward the steps, where some of Ashur's guards were having a conversation. The awe-inspiring building looked almost untouched by the war, though there were some broken windows and steel keeping some of the outside from toppling. The building looked like it was well-maintained, even after the war. Only the best for Ashur.

The inside of Haven was not as nice as the outside, though Claire wasn't expecting it to be. The first floor was mostly quiet, with only the sounds of footsteps of cracking infrastructure echoing around. Though no one told her, Claire had a feeling Ashur would be on the top floor. A king would want to have a nice view of his kingdom. Surprisingly, the elevator still worked and automatically went to the top floor. Ashur must have made sure the elevator only goes to that floor while the other raiders had to take the stairs to their quarters. Or maybe there wasn't as much of the old building left in between the first floor and Ashur's.

When the surprisingly smooth elevator reached the top floor, Claire stepped out to hear the same voice that asked for volunteers to slaughter talking to someone else. Claire walked slowly, hoping to catch wind of the conversation. Maybe she could use it to her advantage later. Claire rightly assumed the man Ashur was talking to be his second-in-command. She'd eventually learn his name is Krenshaw. Claire must have walked in just after Krenshaw, because it sounded like the beginning of a conversation.

"…I'm telling you, they're planning something!" Krenshaw said, sounding like this was his last-ditch effort to get Ashur to listen to him.

"…and I keep telling you I've got it under control! I'll be with you after I maintain some order and dispense some justice!" Ashur countered.

"Maybe you'll follow that up with raiding the dead!" Krenshaw said, sarcasm oozing from his statement.

"No, but I might heal the infirm later in the week. Time permitting, of course." Ashur responded, equally sarcastic.

Krenshaw took a deep breath, trying to contain his growing anger. "Sir, we've had sightings of Wernher in the city and there has been talk amongst the slaves-"

"Workers!"

"What?"

"Workers. Call them workers. Helps with moral. Reminds them that they might earn their freedom someday."

Krenshaw looked like he had lost what remained of his patience. "Whatever you call them, they've been gathering makeshift weapons. We've confiscated a few, but rumor is they've got more somewhere."

Ashur seemed to acquiesce to Krenshaw's demands. "Alright, alright. Keep your guards on alert. Tell them to keep an eye out for anyone loitering too long downtown. And keep a watch on Midea at all times; anything big happening is bound to go through her."

That last statement made Claire stop dead in her tracks. Maybe they hadn't been as subtle as they thought. If Ashur himself wanted Midea watched, then he at least had an idea of what was being planned. Maybe this was a trap for Claire. Ashur seemed like an intelligent man. If the slaves, or workers as he called them, were going to try and free themselves, he knew they'd need outside help. Maybe he anticipated Wernher finding a way to the Capitol Wastes. Maybe Midea was a mole for Ashur and Claire was just an unfortunate piece of collateral damage in whatever was really going on. It would explain why Midea had her own home and didn't sleep on soiled mattresses out in the open like the other "workers". Claire hid in what used to be a bathroom and made sure her gun was loaded. She might not have a chance to look for this cure if she had to fight her way out.

Claire left the bathroom and made her presence known to the two men. Krenshaw didn't look too impressed by Claire, but Ashur did. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very important meeting with our new friend. If anything happens, use the intercom."

Krenshaw saluted and ran off. Ashur's office was grand, but the desk she assumed Ashur sat at was tiny compared to the man and the room. Ashur looked at Claire, sizing her up. He gave her a quick smirk, as if to tell her he knew she didn't belong here. Despite the grime she had accumulated over the last few days, Claire still looked like an outsider. Ashur could see right through her. She wasn't some wastelander the raiders picked up from Paradise Falls and she certainly wasn't some scab raider. She was a Vault Dweller. He knew that. He wasn't going to say it, though. The raiders around here probably never even heard of the Vaults, but if they even got a suspicion that Claire was some soft, pampered outsider, they'd tear her to shreds. Ashur had plans for her.

"Nice work in the hole, new blood." Ashur said, standing by his desk. He looked at the chair but didn't sit. "I had a feeling you weren't one of our usual workers." Ashur looked Claire dead in the eyes. "So that begs the question: Who are you and what are you doing in my city?"

Claire could take the direct approach and just kill him but knew his guards would make short work of her. She had to be careful with Ashur. He wasn't some chem addict Raider who didn't know which way was up and how to get there. "It's complicated." Claire said. That part was true, anyway. "Let's just say I'm new in town and looking for work. I heard the Pitt was building an army and I'd like to join."

Ashur gave her a little smirk. "Understandable. After a show like that, how could I refuse someone of your talents? Ever since the city was scourged years ago, we've done what we can to survive. The city may look barbaric to an outsider like yourself, but we've carved a home out of this hellhole. While the rest of the world scrambles to survive, we have an army, industry, and thanks to a recent surprise, we will soon have no need to fear radiation." Ashur suddenly became sullen and glared at Claire. It was like he was looking right through her. His next question, Claire knew, would be pivotal to her survival here. "But we aren't perfect. Sometimes the past comes back to haunt us. Do you know a man named Wernher?"

Claire almost stopped breathing. That's when she knew it was all about to fall apart. Ashur knew everything. He had that _Don't bother lying, I already know_ look. Claire felt she had stepped back to square one with this place. For a moment, she was starting to feel like one of these raiders. Now, she was back to feeling like a Vault Dweller opening her eyes to the sun for the first time.

"Yes, I know him." Claire said, sheepishly. If she was going to get anywhere with Ashur, she couldn't treat him like some common raider boss. "He brought me here, saying you made a discovery that could free the slaves and cure whatever it is ravishing the people here. But he doesn't seem trustworthy. He skipped over many details of this place. Many important details."

Ashur smiled and nodded ruefully. "I appreciate your honesty." He said. "And you're right, he's not. What story did he spin for you, new blood? Whatever it was, it's a lie. Our discovery is a miracle, but not in the biblical 'set the slaves free' sense of the word. Wernher was my lieutenant, my second-in-command, until he betrayed me."

Claire raised an eyebrow, ignoring the comment about the cure. "Second in command?"

Ashur nodded. "Oh yes. My trusted friend for many years. Worked his way up from half-assed raider to my second-in-command. He was ruthless in his ascension. I was quite impressed, to be honest. He was what this army needed, and I blindly gave him the spot beside me. He led an unsuccessful coup that resulted in his exile to the slave pins and some of my better soldiers getting killed. I wouldn't say it got him back to square one, because one does not get a second chance in the arena. If I had known he'd try to usurp me, I'd have had him gunned down the moment we met. But hindsight is 20/20, as the old saying goes. I have reason to believe he's behind the strange behavior of the workers as of late. Possibly another ill-attempt at insurrection. My army will make short work of it, though."

None of what Ashur said made any sense. Had Wernher been using Claire? Was Claire the distraction this whole time? What was really going on?"

"Ahh, but none of that matters right now. We'll deal with our mutual friend later. I imagine you're tired after that impressive bought in the arena. Well, rest up. You've earned it, new blood. Pick any of the rooms on this floor that hasn't crumbled in and get a good night's sleep. You'll need your energy for what comes ahead." Ashur started walking away but stopped as if he just remembered something important. "Before you go, I would like you to meet Sandra. She's in the next room. She'll introduce you to the 'cure'. If you're going to be working with me, you need to know what we're fighting and working for."

As Ashur started walking away, Claire tried to piece what she just learned together. "Before you go, I need to know." Claire said, watching Ashur stop in his tracks and turn on a dime. "What happened here? You're no raider, I can tell just by looking at you. No raider would know what to do with power armor, much less how to operate it properly. You're Brotherhood, aren't you?

That might not have been the question Claire wanted to ask, but it was the only one that came out of her mouth. Maybe it wasn't wise to give away that she knew what the Brotherhood of Steel was. She might as well have said she was an outsider. But if she was going to find out what was really going on, she had to gain his trust a little faster. Brotherhood mannerisms stayed like bad habits.

Ashur looked as if he was gazing into a different time. He made a growl, like a yao guai fending off a rival. "This thing? It's a relic from my time with the Brotherhood of Steel." He looked at his armored hand and sighed sadly. "It's been through so much, I doubt they'd recognize it. Or the man wearing it for that matter."

"What made you leave?" Claire asked.

"I didn't leave." Ashur growled again. "I was left for dead!" Ashur punched the wall nearby, making part of it crumble. Claire was scared he was going to make the entire building collapse. "Beneath it all, the Brotherhood is lazy. No better than the common raider out in the wastes. It's easier to loot a dying city of it's tech than it is to save it. I didn't see the city's potential at the time because I was caught up in the hoarding of technology like they were. They are so obsessed with technology of the past, they can't see the future for what it is! It takes hard work to build and run a city, but if there isn't a machine to do it for them, then the Brotherhood doesn't care."

Claire could see the sadness in him. "What happened to you?"

It seemed like he wanted to say something but shook his head. Now was not the time to take a stroll down memory lane. "Maybe as our working relationship blossoms, I will tell you. But we have a lot to do, and not a lot of time to do it. Go see Sandra in the next room. You're about to meet our salvation and our trump card on the rest of the wastes." And with that, Ashur walked off.

Claire decided not to press her luck anymore. Ashur probably didn't have as much patience as the Brotherhood taught him. But now, Claire had so many questions. What was Wernher really planning? She knew he wasn't trustworthy, but to say he was an escaped slave trying to help his people? Claire started walking toward the room off to the side of Ashur's office. As she thought about everything, Claire realized Wernher's mannerisms made sense now. He claimed to be an escaped slave but didn't seem too caught up in helping the pinned slaves in the Capitol escape. Why he couldn't go past the gate in the trainyard, and why he had Claire and Midea doing all the dirty work while he skulked in the shadows. Was he pulling one over on Midea, too?

Claire nearly walked into a clean looking woman wearing a lab coat while lost in her thoughts. Claire stopped herself just short of stepping on this woman's toes. "Oh, sorry." Claire said.

The woman smiled at Claire, which was probably the only real sincere smile Claire had seen since getting here. "Oh, no worries. Ashur said he had a new recruit join the ranks and was going to send them to me. I heard Ashur greet you and tell you to come see me, but I got caught up in my work after that. When you didn't come in, I decided to come meet you. I don't like a lot of people roaming around the lab, anyway. My name is Sandra." The woman said, extending her hand.

Taken aback by Sandra's friendly nature, Claire shook Sandra's hand weakly and followed her back to the lab. "I'm Claire. It's nice to meet a friendly face." Claire said, following Sandra down a hallway.

"Likewise." Sandra said, walking less than a foot ahead of Claire. "You're not from around here, are you? Don't be surprised. I can tell you aren't the usual roughnecks Ashur brings into our little Haven. Let me guess; Capitol Wasteland?"

"Yes." Claire said, a little surprised.

"From one of the Vaults?" Sandra said again, her eyes darting to Claire's Pip-Boy,

"You're the only person who's noticed or cared to ask." Claire chuckled, rubbing her Pip-Boy as if rubbing her own wrist.

Sandra gave Claire a sunny smile that could part the smog in the sky. "A lot of these raiders wouldn't know what to do with a Pip-Boy, much less how it works. They'd probably end up smashing it with a rock to see what was inside. That is, if they got it off your arm without sawing it off, first. Most of the Vaults in the D.C. area had the Pip-Boy 3000 model, which has a biometric lock. So long as the wearer still has a pulse, it'll stay firmly on your wrist. Though, I read that only the Vaults in the Capitol got the models with the biometric locks. The 3000 models out west can snap on and off. You'd be amazed at the information you find lying around in old office buildings."

Claire absent-mindedly looked at her Pip-Boy and then at Sandra. She wouldn't have been surprised if Pittsburg had a Vault-Tec office somewhere in the ruins of the city. "I wouldn't mind getting my hands on a model that snapped on and off."

Sandra let out a soft titter of laughter. "Wouldn't we all. I think that's why Pip-Boys aren't so highly sought after in the Capitol Wastes. Having a soldier with that device might come in handy around here. The Power Armor Ashur wears came with a Pip-Boy like device in the arm, but it shorted out years ago."

The hallway was short, but Claire barely noticed when the entered a small lab. It was nice to have pleasant conversation with someone that wasn't snarling or sizing her up to rob her. "So, Ashur says the cure for whatever it is everyone has around here is locked up here in Haven." Claire said, looking around the surprisingly clean looking room. She vaguely noticed a cradle like apparatus at the far end of the room next to a terminal. Most of the lab was taken up my large computers and tables with samples that she assumed came from the infected citizens. The smell reminded Claire of her father's office from the Vault. Sterile, with a hint of metal and soap. "Is there really a cure for…the sickness?" Claire asked, suddenly realizing she didn't know the actual medical name for whatever it was these people had.

"TDC." Sandra said, matter-of-factly. "Troglodyte Degeneration Contagion, or TDC as I've shortened it to. There isn't a yes or no answer to that question, unfortunately. It's too late to save the Trogs. But if we can derive a vaccine, we can still save the people of the Pitt and maybe further beyond! The cure is still a long time coming. It could take years to produce a viable sample, but anything worth doing isn't easy or quick. The wait will be worth it, though. This could be a boon not just for the Pitt, but for mankind as a whole! Ashur sees this as an opportunity to become an actual power-player in the Wastes, but I like to see it as being one step closer to restoring the wasteland."

Claire looked over at the apparatus and noticed something moving around inside. It was at that moment Claire realized that something was a baby. Claire pointed to the cradle. "Isn't it dangerous to have your child in the lab around all these contagions?" she asked, pointing to the baby.

Sandra gave Claire another cheery smile. "Actually, it's a combination nursery and laboratory. Little Marie needs lots of attention and care if she's going to cure the city."

Something pinged inside of Claire's head. "You're saying…" Claire looked over at the baby, Marie, and then back to Sandra. "…the cure is…a baby?!" Claire didn't mean to shout, as it startled the baby. Marie didn't wake up, though.

Sandra walked over to the cradle and picked the swaddled baby up. "Not really. She's nothing short of a little miracle. The TDC makes breeding in the Pitt nearly impossible. But here she is! Nearly immune to almost all types of mutation present in the Pitt. Possibly even radiation itself."

"Where on Earth did you get her?" Claire asked. "I figured the sickness would make having healthy children next to impossible in the Pitt!"

Sandra giggled. "She's ours, silly. Mine and Ashur's. It makes sense, seeing as until you came along, Ashur and I were the healthiest people in the Pitt. That's still not saying much, considering."

"How did you and Ashur…" Claire blushed, thinking about it. Claire had very little experience with men. Not counting Mr. Burke. "…come to work so close?"

"I used to be a scientist in the wastes." Sandra admitted. "I was traveling with my group, toward the Pitt to study this illness we had heard rumors about, ironically enough. We set up a field camp outside the city, but some Pitt slavers captured us. I was only spared because of Ashur. I'm still not sure what happened to the rest of my team. When he learned why we were here in the first place, he set me up with this lab and told me to study it further. He wanted to see my work first hand, and with his help I made great progress. Soon, we found ourselves working closely together, knowing one day this thing could be beat." Sandra blushed and bit her lip a bit. "One night, we worked a little _too_ close. When I told him I was expecting, he was overjoyed. Honestly, I didn't keep my hopes up. Pregnancies among the still human residents are rare here in the Pitt, and healthy ones even more so. You'd never think raiders would be heartbroken over a stillborn baby, but…" Sandra looked like she was about to cry. She shook the horrible thought away. "But then, little Marie came along and she was as healthy as a baby born in a Vault. Ashur and I couldn't be happier. Here, hold her for a moment." Sandra carefully handed Little Marie to Claire and walked over to the terminal desk to fetch some notes.

Looking down at the baby, Claire couldn't help but feel sympathy for the child. New to this world, born into a hellish landscape only to be poked and prodded for science. Whatever they were calling science up here, anyway. Sandra walked back over and explained everything to Claire, though Claire didn't appreciate Sandra dumbing it down for her.

"So, you're saying Marie has a natural and transferable immunity of some sort?" Claire asked, still looking down at Marie.

Sandra smiled again. "Very astute. It seems our daughter was born with a natural immunity to any form of mutation. It's an ongoing study, but if she has the key to stopping the city's trog problem, then there could be many other possibilities as well! This could be a game changer for the world as we know it!"

Claire almost didn't want to give Little Marie back to Sandra, but only stood as Marie was set back into her cradle device. "Aren't you afraid of hurting her?" Claire asked.

"Oh, no. The tests are perfectly safe." Sandra said, though it did little to reassure Claire. "In fact, between her crib and the lab, Marie is probably the healthiest and safest child in the known world. Ashur and I would never risk her health. And if it means the world must wait a little longer for a cure, then so be it. You can look over my notes on the terminal if you want. I could use all the scientific help I can get. I think Ashur knew what he was doing promoting you so fast."

Claire watched as Sandra picked Marie back up and rewrapped her swaddle. She sat down at the terminal and turned it on. Claire was hoping all the times she snooped around in her father's lab terminal would pay off in understanding this outbreak. She understood a few of the entries, but everything else might as well have been written in Chinese. The gist of it was that TDC was caused by a combination of radiation from the war and toxic runoff from the factories nearby. Seemed in line with what Midea told her when she arrived. At least half of the population of the Pitt had it in some form, with about twenty percent going full trog. Recovery rate for anyone in the Trog phase is low to impossible, but some trogs had been seen to remember faces of family and friends. Claire wished that had been case with Billy and John-John in the scrapyard. The last bit was nauseating to read, but Claire pushed on. While successful pregnancies are rare to nonexistent amongst "healthier" citizens, Trogs breed almost constantly. Children born to Trogs are feral from the get-go. No hope for recovery.

Standing up, Claire looked over at Marie as Sandra packed her back into her cradle device. A status popped up on the terminal monitor. It read _Baby Status: Healthy and Well_.

"Thank you for sharing this with me." Claire said, though she was sure if Sandra heard her at first.

"Oh, of course." Sandra said, surprising Claire. "Do you have medical training?"

Claire shrugged. "My father was the resident doctor in the Vault we lived in. And I picked up a few things roaming the Capitol."

Sandra, once again, gave Claire a big smile. "I think your knowledge thus far goes beyond the usual raider survival tactics. When Ashur returns, I'll tell him you'll be an invaluable addition to my research. Better to have you here than slogging it down there with the others."

Letting Sandra get back to work, Claire left the lab and wandered back toward Ashur's office. On the far side of the office was what looked like a hallway. To Claire's expectation, it didn't contain a secret treasure room, only what she assumed was Ashur and Sandra's bedroom. Ashur was nowhere to be found, though it wouldn't have stopped Claire from snooping either way. She had no plan anymore. Claire made sure the coast was clear and walked in. Maybe there was more about Marie being "the cure" in Ashur's room. Maybe Sandra had notes she went over at night when they went to sleep. The bed itself looked well-made, as if it hadn't been slept in for a while. There was a crib nearby that looked about the same.

Claire saw a terminal on the wall and decided to check it out. Maybe it had notes. It didn't, but it unlocked a wall safe that Claire hadn't noticed until then. Of course, Claire unlocked it. While it didn't hold secrets to the universe, it did contain a few stealth boys and some holotapes. Each holotape was marked with a different message. To Marie, The Scourge, The Mill, The Cure. Claire made sure no one was looking and stashed the holotapes and the stealth boys in her pack. Bad karma to steal, but she'd worry about that later. Something told her she'd need them later.

As Claire left Ashur's office, she noticed the lights flickering. Power fluctuations were probably normal in the parts of town that had power. She assumed most of the electricity from the power plant nearby was probably routed to Haven and the mill for obvious reasons. The rest of the Pitt got whatever wasn't wired properly. Fluctuating power was probably another factor in the cure's slow process. Claire ignored the cackling raider guards smoking nearby and went off down another hallway.

"Hey, new blood!" one raider shouted. Claire looked up and saw Krenshaw walking toward her with some other raiders. "Got word from one of my moles in the mill that some of the 'workers' are going to attempt another run for the bridge. Want to join us for some target practice?" he laughed, with the others joining him a second or two after.

Claire shook her head. "I'm going to find a mattress and fall in. It's been an eventful day. Do you know where I can find Ashur?"

Krenshaw laughed. "Suit yourself. I'll shoot one in the eyes for you. Ashur is probably in his radio room recording some more 'motivational' messages for the scabs down below." Krenshaw pointed down the hallway and left with his merry band toward the elevator. Claire hid in a ruined doorway for what seemed like forever until Ashur left. When he was sure he was back in his office, Claire picked the lock on the radio room door and slid in.

The radio room was a half-crumbled room that resembled the vault's reactor room without the reactor and with more wires and machines placed in nonsensical places. A wall had crumbled away, revealing a haunting view of the city itself. She could see the Mill and the bridge out of the city. Salvation was in the next room and no one would ever know. Ashur may have told Claire he had the best intentions, but at the end of the day, he was still using a baby, his own daughter, as a guinea pig.

Claire could hear her father right now. A memory of when Claire was young, and she and Amata got in trouble for breaking some vague rule in the Vault, shot through her mind. Claire couldn't remember what they did or why she thought telling her father and the Overseer they had good intentions would somehow get them out of trouble. James had glared down at his daughter, his arms folded, and said, "The road to Hell is paved with good intentions, Claire."

Her father wouldn't have said that if it wasn't serious. "Dad…" Claire whispered to the sky. "…who am I helping get to Hell?"

The power fluctuated over the city in a hauntingly beautiful display. She wondered how many other people struggled to survive in Ashur's smoke-filled paradise. Claire found the ham radio and tuned it to the right frequency. Nothing. She went over to a control terminal and tried to see about extending the range of the radio itself. She would need to bypass a few things to keep her plans from being broadcast all over the Pitt, but the welcome silence of the 'motivational' speeches could be chalked up to another power fluctuation if anyone asked. They probably wouldn't. She knew Charon would be at home. It wasn't like he had anything better to do while she was away. She tried to think of what to say to Charon.

Claire didn't know what to do now. She wanted to help these people, but she was starting to believe they were beyond help. If there was no going back after transforming into a Trog, could she really do anything to help them? What if it was a one-way street? What if the cure Sandra claims was in Marie's blood was a fluke? What if the cure just delayed the inevitable?

Saying a small prayer and hoping there was enough power to get her message through, Claire cleared her throat. She saw a little light ping, saying the range had extended and the tower was ready. "Claire calling Megaton…" Claire said into the little microphone. "Claire calling Megaton. Charon, do you copy? Over."

After some static, Claire heard a familiar rasp. Claire was so happy to hear Charon's voice. _"Charon in Megaton, speaking. It is reassuring to hear your voice, Boss. Over."_

A tear almost fell down Claire's cheek. "Likewise." Claire looked out among the smoky landscape. "Charon, I need you to listen carefully. I have very specific instructions and I need you to follow them to the letter. I found this 'cure' and I found out a few more things about Wernher. You were right. Over."

There was silence for a moment. Claire looked around to see if the power went out. A little crackle and she heard Charon's distinct breathing. _"Copy that, Boss. Sorry, I had to celebrate. Over."_

Claire wasn't sure if that was what Charon thought sarcasm was. "Look, you can rub it in my face all you want when we meet up. Which will have to be soon. Get a blank holotape so you can record what I'm about to say. This might be too big for just you. I need you to record these instructions and then take them to Sentinel Sarah Lyons immediately. Over."

Again, Claire heard nothing for a minute. She saw lights flicker in another building and then come back on. _"Are you sure it is that bad? Over."_

"Yes, it is." Claire said. "Look, I know you're not very fond of Sarah or the Brotherhood of Steel and I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important, but I don't have time to debate this with you. Between power fluctuations and the 'work brings freedom' speeches over the radio, we're running out of time. I would have called her directly, but I doubt the range of this tower goes that far. Hell, I think it was luck that it reached you. Look, shove the blank holotape into the recorder next to my bed. The machine with the Vault-Tec logo on it. Now, when I give the go-ahead, hit the record button and get down everything I say. Ready? Over."

Hearing a few clicks and clacks, Claire heard Charon groan. _"Ready to record, Boss. Over."_

Over the celebratory hollers of the raiders below, to the sounds of machinery humming off in a factory, Claire relayed her message. When she was assured Charon would get everything immediately to Sarah and the Brotherhood, she relaxed a bit. She told Charon she was going to make a break for it the next night. Hopefully that would give Claire long enough to figure out what she was going to do. She couldn't leave these people to die a horrible death to whatever TDC really was, but she also couldn't let little Marie fall into the hands of slaves to do who knows what to her. And then there was the matter of Wernher. Now that she had time to think, it was all very clear.

It was never about finding a cure. That was just an excuse to get Claire to come in and do his dirty work for him. It was never about helping the people trapped here under Ashur's boot. Wernher wanted power and found a way to it through the slaves he probably helped capture at one point. He had lied to all of them. Claire could live with being lied to. It was something she had come to expect taking jobs out in the wastes. But he raised the hopes of all the slaves, telling them about some secret cure that Ashur was hoarding away, so he could have an army to overthrow Ashur and take the city for himself. For all she knew, he would kill little Marie first chance he got.

Claire sat in the rickety chair by the ham radio and leaned back. She took out her 10mm and watched it glisten in what moonlight could make it through the smoke and clouds of the toxic sky. Maybe Ashur had good intentions, but Claire knew she couldn't let him lead everyone to hell with them. She sure wasn't going to let Wernher take over. There was one thing Claire was positive about, no matter what route she took next. She wasn't going to let either of them use little Marie to further their own ends any longer.

Claire took out the first holotape she had taken from Ashur's safe and loaded it into her Pip-Boy. If she was going to give Sarah the whole story, Claire better get it straight. The holotape made a whirring sound and then started to play.

" _Test, one, two. Looks like this thing's on. Marie, if you're there, this is your father speaking: Ishmael Ashur, sometimes called Lord of The Pitt. Now, I hope you're hearing this ten years from now, sitting on my knee safe and sound. Right about now, I bet I'm looking pretty silly. But things don't always work out the way we'd like. There are a lot of risks, including what your mother would do if she heard me talking like this. And I'm not about to risk leaving you alone without knowing where you came from. These tapes are for you, so you can know who your father really was…"_

* * *

 **Hi, hi, everyone! Summer is over, and we've got a few more chapters to go. The other chapters are pretty much done, they just need some fine tuning and clean up. I've got a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it anymore. Life, right?**

 **I fudged some dialogue and details here, if you couldn't already tell. It's fan fic, alright?**

 **I guess things have been going well for me. I've been working out more and I've decided to give dating another try. Instead of wallowing in self pity and wondering why I'm still single, I've decided to actually do something about it. I know being in a relationship won't fix all my problems, but it will fix at least one. And if I can fix one problem, maybe it can give me the confidence to fix the other thousand problems I got going on.**

 **I'm going to keep this short because I'm working on a few projects at once and I need to get moving. Next chapter will be short, but I think you'll like it. Let me know how I did with a lovely review and help me keep my fics going! Check out my Tumblr for updates on my fics or to just see the nutty things I'm up to. You can find links to all my stuff in my profile.**

 **So, you know how this works: Read, review, and be merry!**

 **Fallout belongs to Bethesda.**


End file.
